


and the history books forgot about us

by roofpizza



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4785062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roofpizza/pseuds/roofpizza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the prompt: A timeline of how narry came to be narry from X-Factor bootcamp to the OTRA tour.</p><p>or</p><p>Niall is having the worst day of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the history books forgot about us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Narryornarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narryornarry/gifts).



> i know this kind of strayed away from the prompt a little, but i hope it's still pretty much what you wanted! i hope this helps you work through some stuff? 
> 
> thanks to the mods of this u guys are amazing :) and thanks to lc for reading this and helping me fix my mistakes and listening to me yell about this a bunch of times luv u :*

_“Lo que yo no entiendo es porque estamos hacienda esto si ya ni sabemos si va a salir al aire.”_

_“Ay, Carlos.”_

_“Que? Ni como me entendieran esta bola de gringos.”_

_“Ya, parale, Carlos. El guero ese se ve que se comió algo raro. Ya andale que se nos hace tarde.”_

The pair of interns rush away from where they were adjusting some lights or whatever—Niall can’t be bothered to pay attention—and everyone sets up for the next round of questions. He read somewhere that the color red is supposed to increase a person’s anger levels, but sitting here, surrounded by the red Coca-Cola logo, the red every-fucking-thing, the only emotion he can manage is numb, which isn’t so much an emotion as a lack of any. 

“What were they saying, Nialler?” Liam asks, leaning forward to look at Niall from over Harry. “They were talking about us, weren’t they?”

“Very nice,” Louis bites out, plastering on a phony smile. “Just because we don’t speak the fucking language—”

“They don’t speak ours either,” Harry mumbles, fiddling with a bracelet on his wrist. It might not be a bracelet, actually, Niall realizes. Maybe a hair tie.

“So what were they saying?” Liam asks, and Niall looks up from where he was looking at a Coke can to see his raised eyebrows. “You’re on translator duty today, Nialler.”

Niall only manages to not roll his eyes when he takes a deep breath in. “Nothin’ important,” Niall starts, and pulls his arm back to fiddle with the button on his jean jacket. “Just questioning the point of shooting this thing when we’ll probably break up before this airs. That as well as calling me a sad sack.”

“Nialler—” Liam starts, but they can hear the interviewer’s heels getting closer and closer, so they all put their game faces on and go on with the interview. 

It’s too fucking long, and it feels so fucking pointless to Niall. Outside this building, the world is ending. Or at least it feels like that to Niall. He’s _worried_ , and he knows it shows on his face and his body language and the way he’s answering questions. They’d performed earlier today, and he knows for a fact that he looks fucking miserable. 

Zayn’s left, and it’s thrown everything he’s had planned into an uncertainty that he’s never been comfortable with. He truly doesn’t know if this special will ever air—has no idea if he’ll still be in a band then. He’s got so many questions, and he’s got no answers, and that’s making him anxious and restless and _angry_. He can feel a faint current of anger thrumming under his skin, and he has no idea what it means.

He hates Zayn.

He misses Zayn. 

Before Niall can process anything, they’re being directed so sign off, and soon enough they’re shaking hands with the interviewer, and Harry is shaking hands with every crewmember he can find. Niall doesn’t even pretend to be cordial before he rushes toward the green room.

“So that was about as fun as being kicked in the dick,” is the first thing Louis says as he gets in the car with Niall. So Liam and Harry are riding together; that’s probably for the best—Niall can picture himself snapping at Liam if he tries to cheer him up one more time. Louis probably feels the same way. “Have you gotten your phone back?”

“No,” Niall bites out. He doesn’t want his phone back, to be honest; he tweeted what he had to, but he doesn’t want to read any messages from his friends or family asking him what they’re gonna do. He doesn’t _know_ what they’re gonna do. It’s all up in the air.

“I wonder what they’re saying,” Louis mumbles, and his leg is bouncing up and down. Niall needs to take a shower.

“I’m sure it’s a mixed bag, mate.” And idly, Niall hopes someone had the idea to take Zayn’s phone away from him too. Out of all of them, he’s always had it the worst when it comes to the internet, and today is probably one of the worst times it’s gonna get for him. Niall doesn’t want him to see that.

“Did you drink one of them Cokes they had?” Louis asks, but he’s looking out the window. “They said they brought them over from Mexico, they did. I personally thought they tasted better than any Coke I’ve had in Europe.”

“Yeah,” Niall agrees. He hasn’t had anything to drink all day. 

~

Niall’s got a crush.

When he’d first met Harry, he thought he was the goofiest human being he’d ever met up to this point in his admittedly short life. He couldn’t stop moving, he was a terrible dancer who tried too hard, and his hair was so unruly it looked like it swallowed his entire head. He’d only seen him around bootcamp here and there between assignments and rehearsals, but he hadn’t taken too much stock in his presence until they’d gotten stuck in a group together.

And Niall is in a _boy band_ now. He’s not so secretly really excited about it, even if he can totally tell that Liam isn’t taking to it so well and Zayn mostly looks asleep throughout the first week they’re together. 

He’s so excited, he invites the lads to come up to Ireland with him for the weekend before they have to start actual rehearsals. He doesn’t really expect them to take him up on it—Ireland is far, Niall knows this for a fact, but when Harry agrees right away, Niall’s excitement grows exponentially. 

So Harry comes up all the way to Mullingar, and Niall can’t help but apologize for how small and quaint everything is—the way Harry had talked about traveling with his family during some of their previous conversations had left Niall equally awed and jealous. 

But Harry hadn’t seemed anything less than incredibly excited to be in Niall’s hometown. He’d gotten on really well with his da, and his friends, and he even went to mass and didn’t even seem to be too bored out of his fecking skull. Harry had fit into Niall’s Mullingar life so perfectly it had taken Niall completely by surprise. This week has been so much _fun_ , and Niall is suddenly that much more excited about the upcoming weeks.

“Do you think they’ll like us?” Harry asks, turning around and jostling Niall a little in the bed. Niall bites down an amused grin at Harry’s posh accent. Harry’s still nervous, and Niall is so jealous of how well he manages to hide that when he’s out in public. But he’s also secretly really pleased that he gets to see this side of Harry Styles. “They don’t usually like groups, right?”

Niall adjusts his position in his tiny twin bed. His da had made him take the couch in order to give his bed to Harry, but on his first night here Harry had insisted that Niall stay close so they could talk and Niall had fallen asleep and they’ve been sleeping like in the same bed ever since. “They could like us, though. They could like us a lot.”

“I suppose everything is possible,” Harry mumbles in this faux philosophical way. Niall snorts and burrows deeper into his pillow. 

“Maybe we’ll be the next JLS,” Niall mumbles.

“But worse dancers,” Harry adds.

“Speak for yourself, mate,” Niall teases.

“Excuse me, Niall,” Harry’s eyebrows scrunch up and his mouth turns down in a faux frown. His eyes are so green.

“Go to sleep, Harry,” Niall orders, and Harry smiles at him. Niall sits back to turn off his bedside lamp, and he can hear Harry let out a sleepy sigh.

“Good night, Niall.”

Niall’s got a really small crush on Harry, and eventually, with X-Factor performances and albums and TV appearances, a tour and a tour and another tour, Niall won’t have time to dwell on it for too long. And Harry will get girlfriends and Niall will not and they’ll go places Niall could only have ever dreamed of and he’ll get closer to these four boys than he’ll ever get with anyone else, and no one will have time to fall in love properly.

But for now, Niall’s eyes adjust to the darkness and he looks at Harry’s curly head of hair and he sighs. Because right now, in his bedroom in this little town in Ireland, Niall Horan’s got a crush on Harry Styles.

~

Niall goes straight to his room when they get to the hotel. They’ve got a plane to catch in the morning, and he feels bone tired. His nails are bitten to the quick. 

He takes a quick shower. He usually enjoys the way his thoughts seem to crystalize when he’s under the warm spray of water, but today he finds that he doesn’t want to think about a damn thing. 

His phone is waiting on his bed when he gets out of his shower, and he only texts his mum and his da to tell them he’s fine before he puts it on Do Not Disturb and throws himself on the bed. 

He’s regretting not turning off the lights when there’s a knock on the door, followed immediately by someone opening it and walking right in.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Harry says, waltzing right in, eyes on his phone and a keycard in his left hand. “I asked for your extra key.”

“Turn off the lights,” Niall orders, and lifts himself on his knees to pull the comforter off the bed and dumps himself under it. He hears a confused hum from Harry, but soon enough the lights are off and he hears a thump. Probably Harry running into something.

“I can leave if you want,” Harry whispers, and he sounds like he’s on the other side of the bed.

“Do ya want t’ leave?” Niall mumbles against his pillow. He feels the bed dip and Harry climbing under the sheets. He’s so warm.

Harry ignores his question and cuddles close to Niall. Niall doesn’t tense up, but he also doesn’t sink into Harry’s warmth. He’s not in the right headspace. Nothing feels like it fits, not even his body with Harry’s.

“I’m trying to give you time,” Harry starts, and this time Niall does tense up. This is a conversation he doesn’t want to be having. “And you don’t have to pretend everything is all right. But you can’t shut me out completely. That’s not how this is gonna work.”

“It’s a ‘this’ now, then?” Niall asks, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “What’s changed, then?”

“Nothing, like,” Harry mumbles against Niall’s neck. “It’s still you and me, right?”

“I guess,” Niall relaxes a little at that. It’s been nearly five years, and despite whatever messiness that has gone on outside of them two, they’re still friends. It’s not ideal, but it’s a constant, and Niall is grateful.

“Yeah,” Harry mumbles, and Niall can feel the drag of Harry’s lower lip on the back of his neck. Then there are hands running under Niall’s shirt, and--

 

“What are you doing?” Niall asks, and he can’t even muster enough energy to sound threatening at this point. He’s so tired.

“You looked so sad today, Niall,” Harry informs him, sitting up and crawling on top of Niall. “I just wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah,” Niall bites out, and gently pushes Harry off of him. “Yeah, this is about me.”

“Well, tell us what you really feel, Niall,” Harry says in a tone that for him is probably as annoyed as he lets himself get.

“What is wrong with you, Harry?” Niall asks, and it comes out more tired than angry. “Why is your solution to everything always sex?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry mumbles, sitting up and by his movement on the bed, probably putting his shoes back on.

There are so many rebuttals that Niall could make. He could talk about how Harry tends to run away from his problems and fill his life with shallow people to fill his empty life. He could throw the fact that Harry tends to go for this weird unattainable ideal of beauty with the partners that he chooses in his face. He could scream about how Harry doesn’t know how to approach anything seriously because he’s so afraid of being hurt. He could yell at him about how he’s sure he doesn’t even feel anything about Zayn leaving anyway, so he couldn’t possibly understand what Niall is feeling.

He’s too tired.

“I don’t want to be used to soothe your nervousness over the band, Harry,” Niall says, tired to the bone. “I don’t want to have sex with you and then have you pretend it didn’t happen and fly to L.A. to get back together with a girl you’d been hooking up with before tour. I don’t want this to be another weight on whatever it is we’ve been dancing over recently.”

There’s no reply from Harry, just a surprisingly fast breathing pattern coming from where he’s sitting on the bed, his back to Niall. 

“I know what I said the other day was probably misleading, and I still feel the same way,” Niall moves his gaze from Harry’s back. “But I don’t think either of us are quite ready to do anything about it. And I think if your ego wasn’t so bruised at the moment you would agree with me too.”

Niall doesn’t expect Harry to say anything else, and when Harry walks out of the room without saying a word, Niall is too tired to be smug.

~

“How do you think he’s handling it?” Liam’s tinny voice comes from Niall’s laptop. They’re on a four-way Google hangout, all but Harry, who is apparently on an island now, newly single and hanging out with middle-aged millionaires. Niall’s pattering around the kitchen, gathering stuff to make himself a proper fry-up, so he doesn’t really see the guys’ faces.

“You know our Harry,” comes Louis’s voice, and Niall can detect the sarcasm on his voice clearly even through the computer speakers. “Probably shagging someone new as we speak.”

“Lou-eh,” Zayn warns, somewhat joking, but mostly protective. They all know what a cheap shot it is to use Harry’s media perception against him. 

“Right, like you don’t have first-hand experience—”

“Fuck off, truly, mate.”

“You fuck off—”

“Boys, come on,” Liam tries, and surprisingly enough, they stop bickering. “I’m serious. If he’s upset, we ought to do something, right? It’s what mates do.”

“What do you suggest, Payno?” Louis asks. “Shall we send him a fruit basket? Maybe a big teddy bear holding a heart-shaped balloon?”

“Don’t be a dick, Lou-eh,” Zayn says softly. “Don’t listen to him, Liam. I think you’re onto something, myself.”

“You’re quiet there, Nialler,” Louis interjects, and Niall ignores him in favor of his eggs. “You’ve not got anything to share with the group?”

“I hope Harry’s all right,” Niall says shortly, and the silence that follows weighs heavily on Niall’s shoulders.

“Right, I’m sure you’re very broken up about this, Nialler,” Louis says, and Niall can’t help but roll his eyes even if he can feel his ears start to heat up.

“I like Taylor, Louis,” Niall says, stirring the beans on the pan. “I’m sorry you don’t.”

“Well, I suppose that won’t be an issue now, will it?” Louis snorts out a laugh. “That’s all good and over, and we can all move on with our lives.”

“Nice, Louis,” Zayn says, a little less amused now. “Don’t be insensitive, Tommo,” Liam says in a milder tone. Niall doesn’t say anything, and his phone chimes with a new message. When Niall unlocks it, Harry’s sent him a photo of his view from his bedroom and the caption “Unreal.” It’s beautiful, and Niall only sends the sunset and the heart emojis in response. 

“Oi, Nialler!” Louis shouts, and Niall actually jumps, startled. “Focus, eh? Liam here was just telling us his plan to cheer our dear old Harold up.”

“Well, if you’re gonna be like that, Tommo—”

“Liam, just tell us your idea—”

“Yes, Liam, please—”

“Won’t you stop being a dick, Louis?”

Niall tunes them out when he sees that Harry’s sent him another message. It reads simply _Miss you_. 

_Miss you_ , he sends back.

~

Niall wakes up with a start with someone shaking his shoulder violently.

“What’s happened?” Niall slurs, groggy but alarmed and ready to get up. “What’s wrong?”

“You!” Harry says from somewhere above Niall. He’s stopped shaking Niall and he’s got his arms crossed over his chest. He looks mad.

“What?” Niall tries to blink the sleep from his eyes. Harry’s turned on the bedside lamp on the opposite side of where Niall is sleeping, a considerate move if contradictory to how he’d woken Niall up so roughly anyway. “What’re ya talkin’ about, Harry?”

“I’m talking about you, Niall, making all these assumptions about the way I act and the way I do things. It’s fucked.”

The curse wakes Niall right up. Harry is no prude, but he tends to use his curse words sparingly, and as a result, they strike Niall more whenever he does use them. Niall sits up on the bed and looks up at Harry, who genuinely looks _angry_ , angrier than Niall’s ever seen.

“I’m sorry,” Niall says after a minute. He is sorry if he did hurt Harry, but he doesn’t regret saying what he did earlier. “I didn’t mean t’ hurt your feelings, Harry.”

Harry scoffs. “You didn’t _hurt my feelings_ , Niall. You were a dick.”

“For telling you how I felt?”

“Don’t simplify this, Niall,” Harry nearly snarls, and he’s lit by the one lamp. He looks ghostly. “You can’t just tell someone that you’re in love with them and then apologize for ‘misleading’ them—me. Misleading me.”

Niall’s pushes the sheets off himself.

~

Niall is opening iMessage for the third time in a minute when a weight shifts on the couch next to him.

“We're gonna be late,” Niall mumbles, not looking up at Zayn. 

“It’s a night club, Nialler,” Zayn mumbles in his unique way that is both sexy and also frustratingly sweet. “And it’s your birthday. They’ll start late just for you.”

Niall rolls his eyes as he thumbs a new message on the little bubble. He keeps typing and deleting words, can’t think of the right thing to send when Zayn pokes an index finger at the middle of Niall’s clavicle.

“He’s not coming,” Zayn says, as if he needs to remind Niall. He could very well be talking about anyone of Niall’s friends he invited to this weekend in Vegas, could be talking about Louis, but Zayn is perceptive, and Niall is frustrated enough to want to talk about it a little.

“I’m not upset,” Niall insists, even though his heart’s been jumping every time he receives a text from Harry that contains a photo of something or other from his adventures around L.A. 

“Well, then,” Zayn puts on that stupid accent that always makes Niall smile and stands up in front of Niall. “Let’s have us a party then, birthday boy.”

“You’re an idiot,” Niall says warmly, and stands up and lets Zayn wrap his arm around his shoulders.

~

“This conversation couldn’t wait until the morning, then?” Niall asks, walking toward the bathroom. 

“I’ve waited a month to bring it up,” Harry says, walking right after him. “Felt that was enough, don’t you?”

“I said what I needed to say,” Niall says as he steps inside the bathroom. When the fluorescent lights turn on, Niall squints and tries to find one of them complimentary cups. “I thought you did, too. I thought we were fine.”

“Things change,” Harry says simply, and leans against the sink where Niall is filling a glass with water.

“Not that quickly,” Niall says before bringing the glass to his lips and gulping down the contents down.

When Niall finishes, Harry briskly grabs the glass from his hand and roughly places it down on the counter. Niall only has time to be grateful that it doesn’t break before Harry grabs him by the shoulders and brings him in for a kiss.

~

“Do you think it’s crazy?” Harry asks, not looking up from his bowl of fresh fruit. They’re currently in the middle of their only break for the day full of interviews. Niall still can’t believe they’re promoting their own movie, but he’s still exhausted from answering the same question 500 times.

“What?” Niall asks before taking a bite of his pasta. He’s starving.

“You know,” Harry raises his eyebrows at Niall, as if that’s supposed to mean anything. Niall just shrugs, and Harry lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Zayn.”

“Oh.” Niall bites another forkful of pasta and chews, deliberating. “Yeah, I think it’s crazy, bro.”

“Bro!” Harry says, and places a chunk of pineapple in his mouth. He chews on his food for a while before speaking again. “What do you think about it? Seriously?”

Niall shrugs. “A bit reckless, in my opinion, but I’m not gonna tell Zayn that, mate. He makes his own decisions, right?”

Harry chews thoughtfully. “Reckless, hmm?”

“I mean,” Niall shifts uncomfortably. He doesn’t like the idea of talking about Zayn behind his back. “For anyone, like. Not to be a wanker, but it’s not exactly like we’re mature and responsible adults.”

“I like to think that we are,” Harry jokes, but his heart isn’t in it, and he ends up sounding more serious than Niall’s heard him all day. “That why you’ve’n’t got yourself a proper girlfriend, Nialler?”

Niall doesn’t like the direction this conversation’s gone. “Guess so. I mean, Louis and Liam are proof that it’s possible to have a—someone in the middle of all this, I suppose but…I don’t want to be responsible for someone else’s feelings when I can’t even deal with mine, yeah?”

“Pragmatic,” Harry says to his forked mango cube.

“Yep,” Niall says, and swiftly shoves more food into his mouth. 

~

Niall lets himself reciprocate for a full 20 seconds before he’s pushing Harry gently off him. Harry would never force himself on Niall, ever, and when Niall pushes him away, he goes and almost visibly deflates. When Niall re-focuses his gaze to Harry, though, he’s got his full height back and a defiant look on his face.

“What do ye want, Harry?” Niall asks, resigned to finish this conversation in a way that will give Harry his own closure. 

“I’d like to give this a go,” Harry says, and his voice voice has got this weird sincerity that Niall doesn’t think he’s heard a lot this year. It’s more sobering than anything that’s happened since he woke up.

“No,” Niall says, in a tone that he hopes conveys the type of finality he doesn’t know he really feels. 

“I don’t accept that,” Harry says.

“Tough.”

~

“So you’ve been in love, then?” Harry asks, after they’ve been herded back to their hotel rooms. Niall isn’t surprised that Harry hadn’t gone straight to his own; sometimes he uses this little free time they get before going to sleep in order to beg Niall to give him a quick guitar tutorial. 

“What?” Niall asks, because he doesn’t recall how they’d gotten to this conversation. Just a minute ago they were talking about next year’s Masters.

“You know,” Harry says, and he’s kicking off his shoes, which means he’ll probably stay a while longer than Niall had thought. It’s fine, though, Niall is a bit wired if he’s honest. “The interview today? They asked us if we’d ever been in love.”

Niall remembers now, and he can feel his cheeks start to heat up, mortifyingly enough. He turns around and starts taking off his own shoes, unable to look Harry in the eye at the moment. “Yeah. A bit ridiculous that, eh?”

He hears Harry let out a snort and then the sound of his body hitting the mattress. “I’m glad I now know that you’re a big spoon.”

Niall hums as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Embarrassing how many times we’ve seen each other naked, innit?”

“Some people would be very jealous of us, Niall,” Harry says, and Niall can see the cheeky smile playing on his lips.

“Some people are exceptionally creepy,” Niall says, and pulls his shirt off before heading to the bathroom. It’s been a long day, but he’s still got some leftover make-up on his face, and he knows from experience that if he doesn’t wash it off before he goes to sleep, he’ll regret it.

“I feel like I learned a lot about you, though,” Harry tells him as soon as Niall comes back out of the bathroom. He’s got his own trousers off, and he’s plundered a pair of Niall’s basketball shorts. They look comically small on him, and Niall quietly chuckles to himself as he heads to his suitcase. “Good to know you always wear clean underpants.”

“Was raised right, after all,” Niall quips as he pulls a t-shirt on.

“Maura didn’t raised a savage,” Harry agrees, and Niall snorts another laugh as he pulls up his own pyjama bottoms. “Remind me to congratulate her the next time I see her.”

“You got a point, Harry?” Niall crawls up toward the head of the bed. He gets on his tummy and faces Harry as they both lie on their pillows. 

“You didn’t answer my question earlier,” Harry hums, looking up at the ceiling, and Niall wonders where’s he’s left his phone. Usually he’s glued to it. “I asked you if you’d really been in love.”

Niall doesn’t answer right away, takes his time shifting around onto his back and getting comfortable. He doesn’t exactly want to talk about this, especially not with Harry. “You know, it was just a quickfire round. I put that paddle up at random.”

“I didn’t,” Harry mumbles against his pillow. “I’ve never been in love, Niall.”

“Not even with—” Niall starts, but Harry hums to stop Niall from finishing his sentence. “I always thought…you know?” 

“And I never thought…” Harry turns his head to make eye contact with Niall now. “When we’ve talked about it, you always seemed—you said--”

“Yeah, well,” Niall clears his throat, remembering a conversation they’ve had more than once, drunk or too tired to put any walls up. “Sometimes it can’t be helped, you know?”

They look at each other for what feels like too long when Harry speaks, low and soft, just to him. “Niall…”

“Yeah?” Niall hums against his pillow. They’re so close, he can feel the air coming out of Harry’s nose every time he breathes. 

Harry blinks a few times before asking quietly, “Who?”

Niall can feel his own face fall at the question, and when he sees Harry’s face mirror his own, his heart clenches. He can’t do this, not now. “Harry?”

“Yeah, Niall?” Harry’s voice is soft and his breath is warm on Niall’s face. 

“Not tonight.”

“All right.” Harry turns on his side, facing away from Niall. “Give us a cuddle, then.”

~

“So you don’t care about how I feel?” Harry asks, crossing his arms angrily. 

“How long do you think you'll feel that way, Harry?” Niall snaps thoughtlessly. 

“Don’t be a dick," Harry snaps back.

“Sorry,” Niall apologizes sincerely. It wasn’t a nice way to express what he’d wanted to. Niall takes a deep breath, and places his elbows on his knees, not looking up at where Harry is standing against the wall next to the bathroom. “Neither of us is ready for what I would want with you. I won’t ask you to be ready, and I won’t ask you to wait until I’m ready.”

Harry doesn’t say anything as he starts making his way toward the bed. Niall braces himself for whatever gesture Harry thinks will be the most romantic, but he relaxes when Harry just sits right next to him.

“Why do you think…” Harry lets out a frustrated sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not asking for a perfect thing here. All I’m asking for is a chance to _try_.”

“I don’t--” Niall clears the lump that’s forming in his throat. “I can’t lose you too. I wouldn’t be able to handle that, Harry.”

~

Niall runs his towel roughly through his hair when he gets out of the shower. He usually likes to shower after shows, not before, but he’s had stress sweats all day, and he felt totally uncomfortable before he’d jumped into the cold water. 

Harry keeps _touching_ him, is all. It didn’t use to be a problem, but recently Niall’s had actual time to overthink the way Harry drapes himself over Niall when he’s really tired or the way his hand will tangle with Niall’s when he goes in for a high five or even the way he playfully punches him in the groin sometimes. It’s embarrassing, and it’s getting out of control, and Niall can feel the stress of this build up in him as the tour goes on.

They’re in Japan now, and something tugs at his heart when he remembers their time in Japan two years ago. That was around the time Harry had broken up with Taylor for the first time, and he winces at the memory. 

He jumps when he hears someone jiggle on the doorknob, and then he rolls his eyes when he hears a thump and a low, “Niaaaaall...”

“I was showering ya nut,” Niall says, opening the door. His heart only jumps a little when there’s Harry, a sad pout on his lips and his eyes wide and green. “Oh.”

“Well don’t sound so excited,” Harry jokes, walking past Niall into the dressing room. Niall still gets a thrill that he gets his own dressing room, and he feels a little embarrassed about it. “I thought you could give me an impromptu guitar lesson today. I think I’m getting really good.”

“You’re all right,” Niall says, walking toward the couch to grab a clean shirt. “Now if you weren’t so annoying…”

“You think I’m ace,” Harry shoots behind himself when he goes for Niall’s acoustic guitar. “And you like feeling like you’ve taught me something.”

“You’re a pretty good student, I guess,” Niall mumbles, sitting down next to Harry on the couch. Harry’s playing something that Niall can’t recognize, and he’s struck with the thought that maybe it’s something new he’s working on, and he’s about to ask when what comes out of his mouth instead is, “Hey, Harry?”

“Yes, Niall?” Harry looks up from the guitar and meets Niall’s gaze. He’s got his signature impish grin, and suddenly Niall can’t help himself.

“I love you,” Niall says quietly. He’s surprised that he didn’t blurt it out embarrassingly loud. Harry’s grin grows into a full-blown smile. “I love you too, Niall.”

Niall’s smile falls from his face, and Harry’s smile dims in response. Harry snorts out a humorless laugh. “What is it, then?”

Unable to meet Harry’s eyes anymore, Niall looks down at his hands. “I’m in love with you, Harry.” Niall starts picking at his thumbnail, already sore from biting at it this past week. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry, Niall. Didn’t you know?” Harry says, moving closer to Niall, and running his hand down Niall’s arm. “I’m in love with you too.”

Niall’s heart stops, and his head snaps up to look at Harry’s face. He doesn’t look like he’s joking, and he’s biting his bottom lip to tamper down a smile. This is the kind of thing Harry would make a joke about, and Niall is about to ask him if he’s being serious when Harry leans in to press a swift kiss on Niall’s lips.

When Harry pulls back, Niall takes one look at his big grin and his sparkling eyes and mutters a resigned, “Ah, shit.”

~

“We’ve known each other for five years,” Harry starts, and his hair falls over his face in a curtain when looks down at the floor. “We’ve gone through so much shit, and a lot of what we were as a band has gone off—I don’t blame Zayn for leaving, you know?” Niall can feel himself flinch. “I hate it, but it’s better, or it’ll be better, eventually. My point is,” Harry clears his throat before pulling his hair back from his face and turning to look at Niall. “In all this time, no matter how fucked up things have gotten, no matter how miserable and hard and weird, you’ve always made me happy.”

Niall rolls his eyes. “Just because I make you laugh sometimes—”

“Well, let me finish,” Harry shifts on the bed so he’s facing Niall fully. He’s got an earnest frown on his face, and Niall feels bad now. “You know how it was with Louis. He and I used to have a laugh—used to have a lot of ‘em, actually. Now that’s all fucked, and whatever I thought I felt for him went away. And that’s sad, you know, but not everything’s meant to last. But with you, it’s never felt like a passing thing. Whatever I felt about you when I was sixteen’s only intensified. Every person I’ve dated, everyone that I thought would make me happy, none of those people made me feel the way you make me feel.”

There are so many ways they could go wrong, so many different things they could do to ruin each other, to ruin whatever connection they’ve built in the five years since they’d met. But he’s told all of those reasons to Harry. More than once, and he’s still here, in Niall’s room, in about the worst day they’ve ever had as a band, and he still looks hopeful despite how awful Niall’s been in the last few months.

“I’m not asking you to marry me,” Harry says, looking back down at his hands. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen two hours from now. What I do know is that we work together, and I really love you, and you can be scared about what all of that means, but I’d like to help you work through that, if you’d let me.”

“Harry,” Niall starts, and that’s all there is. Everything is out in the open, raw and bleeding and there for Niall to look at and take if he wants to. He has no idea what any of it means, can’t figure out what will happen tomorrow or in a month or in year, and that’s so scary. This is the one thing Niall can’t plan for. He’s said no so many times before, and it’d be so easy to do it again.

“Come on, Nialler,” Harry says, sliding his hands across the bedspread to tangle with Niall’s right hand. “What’s going through that busy mind, hmm?”

Niall swallows down the lump on his throat, and looks up at Harry’s hopeful face. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, doesn’t know if Harry will change his mind or if their band will fall apart or if a mega volcano will explode and destroy the earth. But Harry’s smile is still the same as it was when Niall had quietly fallen in love with him all those years ago in Ireland. The only difference now is that Niall knows what this is, and so does Harry.

Niall leans in to peck lightly at Harry’s cheek. He opens his mouth to say something romantic, but Harry tackles him to the bed to kiss him properly on the lips. Niall starts laughing, and he doesn’t feel like he stops until he wraps himself around Harry in the darkness of this hotel room. His heart won’t slow down, but he thinks it isn’t just fear this time. He thinks, as he places a light kiss on the crown of Harry’s head, that it’s excitement for the morning to come.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :) ily 
> 
> find me on [tumblr lmao](http://mpregfan1994.tumblr.com)


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